Dorcas House renews lives of abused women

Dorcas VanGilst (left) and Michelle Dewitt share a laugh in the Dorcas House supply room, full of the diapers, cleaning products and paper towels the house always needs. VanGilst is director of the house’s domestic violence program and Dewitt heads up the substance abuse program.
Dorcas VanGilst (left) and Michelle Dewitt share a laugh in the Dorcas House supply room, full of the diapers, cleaning products and paper towels the house always needs. VanGilst is director of the house’s domestic violence program and Dewitt heads up the substance abuse program.

— When one is looking for employment, the organization’s name doesn’t usually come into the decision.

But it nearly kept Dorcas VanGilst away.

“I didn’t really want to come here because it seemed ridiculous because of my name,” she says with a smile.

“Here” is the Dorcas House, the women’s branch of the Union Rescue Mission that, like VanGilst, is named for a woman in the Bible who took care of the poor. The men’s branch of Union Rescue Mission is the Nehemiah House, named for a man who was “the rebuilder of walls.”

As she suspected, the name has caused some semi-comic confusion for VanGilst, now one of the house’s co-directors along with Michelle Dewitt. But the good works make any inconveniences well worth it.

“I just really fell in love with the ministry itself and what they do and the character with which they do it and the integrity with which they do it,” she says.

The house opened 50 years ago, first as a shelter for homeless women, but it quickly became a domestic violence shelter and recovery program. They moved to their present, 75-bed location in 1993, and in 2009 they added a drug and alcohol recovery program.

The Dorcas House doesn’t charge its clients for any of its services or for room and board. But while it’s free, it’s not a free ride.

“The Dorcas House is not for people who want a quick fix or a hand-out. We expect them to work hard. By and large, those who are here are very grateful to be here and they work very hard and do whatever they need to do to change,” VanGilst says.

“The ones that have attitudes or are disgruntled, they don’t stay long,” Dewitt adds.

Unlike many rehabilitation programs, which generally run for 30 days, or domestic violence shelters that have time limits, the Dorcas House program is nine months long. It’s a rigorous schedule of classes, therapy sessions with master’s-level counseling interns and household chores.

There are specific classes on subjects such as parenting and abuse recovery as well as nondenominational Bible studies.

If the women don’t have a high school diploma or GED, they work toward that. They also receive help and advice as they search for housing and apply for college or jobs so they can make it on their own after graduation. All the women must have “exit strategies” and resumes.

“We encourage them to have a large savings account before they move out,” Van-Gilst adds.

The whole point, VanGilst and Dewitt explain, is to provide lasting treatment and solutions. That means long-term care that doesn’t end when the nine months are over. In fact, if they need to, women are welcome to stay at the house for free after they’ve completed the program.

“Our whole goal is not just to be a Band-Aid to domestic violence or substance abuse,” Dewitt, who is in charge of the substance abuse program, explains. “We want to equip them. We want to break the cycle.”

“People don’t get into domestic violence for no reason,” says VanGilst, who heads the domestic violence program. “People don’t use drugs and alcohol for no reason. There’s always underlying reasons that need to be dealt with.”

When it comes to funding, they don’t receive any government help.

As Dewitt explains, government funding often comes with stipulations that limit the length of time a woman can stay and also prevent explicitly Christian aspects of the program.

“That’s what we’re founded upon,” she says. “It’s very important to us.”

They receive money from churches and corporations, but roughly 80 percent of their funding comes from small, private donations.

“Our bread and butter is $20 donations,” Dewitt explains.

They’re currently nearing the end of a major capital campaign. While most of the money is earmarked for a new men’s facility, some will be used to renovate Dorcas House, which needs a new air conditioning unit and new windows as well as an electronic gate.

“We’re hitting the 20-year mark with this building, and so with the amount of traffic, things are running down,” Dewitt says.

Since the house provides its women and children with everything from bed linens and clothing to food and diapers, they always need donations. There’s a running needs list on the website.

“I try to tell people, anything you use daily in your own home, we need it times a lot,” Dewitt says.

Especially appreciated, but rare, are invitations or tickets for group outings.

“Our ladies don’t get to get out and about like you and I do,” Dewitt says.

Of course, with a very small staff, volunteers are vital to keeping the house running by organizing, teaching classes, cooking or helping out in the onsite day care.

Drugs, alcohol abuse and domestic violence affect society far more than many people realize. Dorcas House clients come from all strata of society.

“Everybody wants to think this would never happen to my family,” VanGilst says.

Dewitt points out that statistically one in four women are victims of domestic violence — physical, emotional and verbal.

“It does touch you more than you think,” she says. “I feel like people don’t realize how much this is in our churches and our professions.”

Dewitt and VanGilst profess their love and respect for the women who stay at Dorcas House.

“We don’t take it for granted. This is not an easy place to live, but they’re here because they choose to be here, because it’s worth it to them to get free for themselves and their children,” VanGilst says.

They both point to a 40-year-old client who suddenly passed away last month. Before coming to Dorcas House, she hadn’t been clean and sober in 27 years, but she had finally been restored to her family.

“She was so joyful,” says Dewitt. “She was beloved.”

“She was grateful for every day being clean and sober — intensely grateful,” Van Gilst adds. “It’s tough, but we think, what if we hadn’t been here? What if she had still been on the street and had been alone?”

For more information, call (501) 374-4022 or visit urmission.org.

High Profile, Pages 41 on 11/18/2012

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